Hate is a toxic thing to hold

on living, thinking and feeling in these times

I hate these men.
I hate them.
It's a strong word hate.
And a violent one.
But it's true for me.
I hate them.
And also, hate is a toxic thing to hold.

So I meditate on this: how to feel, acknowledge, even express this hate and also hope to let it pass.

Pass through me, pass beyond me, pass out of me.

I think of it (sometimes) like a blade, like a knife, like an edge (or beam) of light that passes out of me sharp and refined and into them (like a stab) like a sword passing through. It's out of me now.

I hated Bush and Cheney. I hated them so much. I imagined terrible things happening to them. I used to wish they could (would) fall downstairs together (somehow) linked, hand in hand, arm in arm, tumbling (I always imagined the stairs were red carpeted) laying broken, irrevocably, at the bottom. Gone.

In those years I did not let it pass through me. I held it for eight long years. I cried so hard when they were finally out of office. I cried with a terrible realization of how much hate I had walked around with day after day. Two thousand, nine hundred and twenty days. Eight years.

The first time with these evil men, with this evil man, I was too shocked to hate. I was disgusted. Horrified. Ashamed. Scared. But maybe I didn't hate this hard. Maybe I only said it but really only wished him gone. Hoped him dead. Which isn't always (or necessarily really hate) but could be just extreme distaste, like hoping a terrible eyesore gets torn down but you don't need it to be extricated from the earth.

But this time I hate. And I want to (need to) own that because hate comes from anger and anger is our firmest boundary. Hate becomes an action born from it, or maybe a trigger made from it.

My boundaries have been crossed. All of them at once and all over again. And again and again and that's exactly what they want and they hope to end me in this constant disregard. In this constant harm. Like stepping over and over on a plant that wants to grow and fruit.

But I have grown thorns (this time). And evolved. And now I come to expect their stamping on me. And now instead of always breaking my stems and crushing my petals, they release my poison, they free my thorns. I grow differently instead of not at all. I give my hatred back to them.

My hate has become like pollen. It is so light to them they don't even know they carry it. Like a tiny bristle caught on fabric they don't realize I've touched them. But I did. (I do) Because I don't let them break me anymore. My strength is proof of their weakness. My growth proves their plans will end (eventually).

I hate them. And hate is toxic so I evolve like a plant that lives on poisoned soil and learn to use it to clean my air. This time I won't hold it. I won't be tricked into thinking my burden, my suffering is antidote to their action. This time I'll drop it, hot like molten lava that plops and hisses when it hits the ground. I'll drop it, I'll lob it, I'll blow it up like a big balloon and watch it float out and away, one day popping to rain down on them. A seeded cloud that gives back what it was given.

It's not mine this hate. I won't have it. They can't make me this time.

Things I'm doing to hand back the extended hand to suffer as planned:
Only checking news once a week. Things happen quickly. Shock and awe is the point to maximize suffering and fear. Things take time to actually happen. Me (us) taking in ever terrible detail and imagining every outcome is not useful and the stress and exhaustion is exactly the plan they are enacting.

I read people who have the capacity to digest information and give it to me in a way that I can handle. Namely, Heather Cox Richardson, Jessica Valenti, Kate Manne. Smart women.

I'm spending less time on my phone, (I know ironic! I'm here!) but I don't need to be inundated by every account I follow turning into a breaking news station.
I'm also unfollowing or muting ppl who post political content that I might agree with but find too upsetting to be caught by surprise by.

Instead of spiraling into what ifs(at least not every day), I'm making real plans for various apocalypse scenarios that are conceivable as we see California burn and the South Eastern Coast flood. From disasters that might necessitate having stored water or a go-bag, to taking the time to truly consider what it would look like (feel like) and what might need to happen to have a future in a different place (less urban? another country?) or in the same place but with even more support, community and safety-net.

This is a time which none of us have ever experienced unless you are from a country who’s government was made a non-democracy from the inside, a country crumbled by the seated powers not the un-seaters. I think actually a lot of people all over the world have experienced this. But it’s very new for us, fairly new country Americans. (America is still such a baby nation in relation to the histories of the world stage.) We have not been rocked like this since perhaps the Civil War. We have not had to reckon with the fragility of our nations identity since a time that none of us were alive for.

Be gentle with yourself. Notice the strain and stress of ignoring, of being aware, of pushing away and of taking too much in. It is a constant dance. We will not get it right ever. We can only hope to balance in each moment, like stepping over stones in a river that keeps moving. Find your stones. Try not to fall in.

take care

xo

C

I wrote about how not all poor mental health is ‘bad’.

My podcast Busy Body is about to drop new episodes. The most recent episodes are here.

Every Virtual Run Club series starts with a group coach call and 9 out of 10 participants begin by saying how much they hate running and don’t ever want to. It’s a wonderful group and many have gone on to create non-obsessive, joyful running practices to this day.

I also teach beginner strength and stability via Kettlebells and Pilates as well as several restorative classes and workshops including Anti-Anxiety Cardio and Fascia Release™ all of which are designed to gently shift our bodies into balance without the ableist fat shaming ‘sweat is fat crying’ mentality that infects so much of mainstream fitness. I also do virtual one-to-one sessions, just me and you working out, relieving your pain, or talking about your needs and goals.

I hope you can find something here that supports you.